


Rolling thunder and pouring rain

by TotemundTabu



Series: 30 THROBB SMUTS [20]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Canon ages, Dirty Talk, Dom Robb Stark, Feminization, First Time, M/M, Period-Typical Homophobia, Sub Theon Greyjoy, Top Robb Stark, feminizing dirtytalk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-08
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2019-03-28 16:45:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13908135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotemundTabu/pseuds/TotemundTabu
Summary: For the PWP prompt: Could I maybe request a one chapter Throbb fic? One where Theon is helping Robb sexually (letting him fuck him to be ready to fuck his soon to be wife) but ends up loving it. - Canon Ages apply





	Rolling thunder and pouring rain

**Author's Note:**

> Title and verses are from AC/DC's Hells Bells!  
> Thanks to: the person requesting this because I had fun <333, Mija and Janie_Tangerine for the help and support and anachronistic check :'D   
> I hope you will like it! <3

**Rolling thunder and pouring rain**

 

* * *

 

_I'll give you black sensations up and down your spine._

_See my white light flashing as I split the night._

 

* * *

 

Theon Greyjoy took pride in many things: his Ironborn heritage, his archery skills and, above everything, the list of women he seduced and who moaned his name thanks to the outrageous length of his … bowsprit.

He loved women and he loved how women loved him.

Being adored, craved, searched for was like honey to him – nothing felt sweeter hitting his tongue than a pulsing, wet cunt, desperate for him, begging him. Feeling wanted was addicting.

It was sweet as milk of the poppy but pounded through him like thunder, igniting his nerves.

Theon never considered men.

Men were competition, either to be wary of or to humiliate.

But Robb.

Robb had always been such a comforting, familial presence that Theon barely perceived him as a man at all, at first. He had been a boy who listened to his sex stories, he had been a hunting companion and a friend, but it was when Robb hit the ripe age of sixteen that Theon had to realize he had been so, so blind.

Robb had grown stronger and taller, he had auburn hair on his chest and a red beard that looked like silk flames, and hands so big Theon imagined them pumping his cock until it was spent and milked.

Theon had felt gutted, his heart spilling open at that awareness.

Robb's chest was wide and flat, his back ridden by muscles – he looked so handsome, Theon had hoped for one moment it was jealousy.

As if he could be jealous of someone's appearance, given his own!

But he had tried to convince himself, uselessly.

He found himself glancing, staring, lingering on Robb's figure, when they were both in the hot springs bath water, immersed only to the navel, leaning behind with their elbows on the pool's edge, resting their backs against rocks.

Robb would close his eyes, head tilted towards the sky, breathing in the chilly breeze, his lower half enveloped in the embrace of scalding water, filled with herbs.

Theon felt his cock twitch at the thought of lowering himself, sucking Robb off, while the water would fill his nostrils, almost suffocating him.

It was so stupid, and yet there was a thrill to it, to the idea of Robb pushing his head down, rolling his hips, fucking his mouth and keeping his whole life on edge, on the verge, too pleased with Theon's skills to think about him choking.

Theon's dick stirred, his blood boiled and he swallowed down dry and heavy.

Robb's breath seemed heavy too and as he turned towards Theon, his stare seemed sad – utterly so.

Robb's knuckles turned white as he held the stone to push himself forward and Theon felt his legs part slowly, gently, as to welcome the little wave of warm water and Robb's presence.

He felt shame ride his cheeks, as he realized it.

But he did it.

“Theon. - Robb gulped down – I have to … ask your opinion on a matter.”

“Uh.”

Theon forced himself not to look towards Robb's groin, and he just shrugged and chuckled.

“It's about women.”

“Well. - his cocky, smug smirk was on the rise again – On that I'm an expert.”

Robb looked down, “Exactly. - his voice was shy and his throat clenched, Adam's apple thinning – I'm not... really.”

Theon raised an eyebrow.

He knew Jon was definitely a maid, but Robb? Fair, he had felt a bit sad that Robb never shared a first time story with him, but he took for granted that it simply was too humiliating to admit he lasted little and she hadn't felt much.

Some pieces of his ego felt plumper at the idea, but a weird knot burned in his stomach.

He felt seasick.

His throat fell tight and shut, his voice came out hoarse and crumpled.

“Are you worried about Wynafryd?”

Ned Stark had promised Robb to Wynafryd Manderly and she was to arrive in Winterfell in less than a year for the wedding.

Robb, wed.

It sounded so absurd.

Robb was so young, Robb was so free, Robb was... Theon swallowed down again as the word “mine” came to his mind.

“Partly. - Robb looked away – I know I should just... lay with someone else before, but I can't.”

Robb was such a green boy, and yet so ripe.

Theon scoffed, smiling, “Oh, well... I would advise you to go to Ros for this. - he winked, forcing himself to sound not involved – I mean, I would tell you of Kyra, but I'm not willing to share with a Stark.”

Robb seemed wounded.

Theon attributed it to his last remark, but before he could correct himself, Robb shook his head.

“I don't want. - a pause, his eyes looked away – Any of them.”

Theon frowned, “Is there another woman you have in mind? - a little smirk, and then his voice turned all amused – Hey, don't tell me you're smitten with some kitchenmaid.”

Robb's cheeks turned red as plums as he moved away, almost scalded by Theon's mocking.

“No. - he replied, not at all convincing – I just, you know, don't trust them.”

Theon snorted, “You don't need to trust someone to fuck them.”

Robb sighed, “But that sounds so... disappointing.”

“Life, in my experience, is a long series of disappointments one ignores by fucking. - Theon half-mused, half-joked, but then his glance fell on how mortified and embarrassed Robb looked and he felt inside himself a need to come closer, so he did move slowly towards him, speaking with unprecedented, inconceivable difficulty – Are you... afraid of...?”

“I just would like my... - Robb looked away – Deflowering to be with someone I trust.”

Theon glanced again, his eyes lingering on Robb's lips.

Droplets of wetness and sweat ran down his long hair and then tripped onto the hot surface of the water.

He parted his lips, “I could teach you.”

Robb remained still a moment. Silence shone blue on the surface of the water.

Then his bottom lip parted, the gape to the warm darkness of his mouth enveloping Theon's chest with a painful grip.

Robb's eyes widened, he glanced at Theon and then something heavier and more powerful than gravity dragged his look to Theon's chest, to the sparse black hair on it, to the dark nipples, to the collarbones, shining wet.

Robb's pupils blew black.

The knot in his throat tensed and then melted into his neck’s muscles, Robb's voice came out as strangled and hoarse as when it was cracking years back.

“To...”

“Pleasure a woman.”

Robb's mouth was open, his lips quivering and he nodded, weakly.

“Ah.”

“I... - Theon's voice croaked – If there is one thing I can teach you, it’s that. - he chuckled, weakly – Plus, what kind of brother would I be, if I abandoned you when it comes to this?”

“Right.”

Robb looked away, stubbornly nailing his look to the hot springs water.

Theon's breath itched inside his own skin, and he looked at Robb and recognized his own hunger.

“You... - Robb's voice trembled – Do you plan to ask Bessa or Ros to...?”

“No. - Theon's voice was something along a bitter laugh coated with sour panic – Just us.”

Robb blinked.

His cheeks were stained by the blood rushing to them. Like betrayal.

He couldn't help but let out a small smile.

“I, - Theon looked away but forced his smirk to persist and it got sharp and cutting and fragile – I could never expose you in such a delicate moment, my lord.”

 

*

 

Robb waited for the night with a heaviness to his chest and a feverish frenzy running through his mind and veins. He couldn't avoid feeling like something similar to whips of fire ran down his spine and inside his nerves at the idea of being close to Theon.

He was not sure how he would have learned to love Wynafryd – but he knew if he had... one moment, one night with Theon maybe he could have cherished that one.

One night for a lifetime.

It sounded like such a miserable and meagre deal.

But it was the best he could strike.

He had been looking at Theon in ways one shouldn't look at a friend since a while by then: with possessiveness, with greed, with lust.

He had his first spill under the covers daydreaming of Theon's hands on his dick, and he had grown so accustomed to that fantasy, he soon stopped meeting it just in dreams, but actively pictured it in his head, at night, before falling asleep, when his cock would pulse hard, claim attention, ask for rest from desire.

When Theon would share his tales of him and Kyra, Robb felt an outrageous anger, but he couldn't stop himself from listening, charmed, fascinated, at times half-hard just at hearing how he licked her or how he bit her neck.

He had pumped his cock in the nights, imagining first to join them, then with time Kyra – or Ros, or Bessa, or the wench of the day – would disappear, melt in the shadows of his chimney-lit room. It would be just him and Theon.

And Theon would suck him and jerk him off, Robb would oblige in return and welcome Theon's come on his own face. And then Robb had dreamed of fucking him, of taking his maidenhood. As if Theon had one.

Would have Theon grabbed his neck? Prayed? Begged? Would have he moaned? Crossed his legs behind Robb’s back? Scratched that back? Moaned louder? Would have Theon come around his cock?

It tormented him.

Not with pain, no – with hunger.

With an impulse to discover, to unplug, to dig. It felt like a scab to peel off and taste the sweetness of the blood underneath.

There was a craving inside him to devour Theon's flesh, taste his skin, his blood, his come. But, more than everything, his voice.

Robb wanted to hear him moan, convulse, beg.

He wanted to find that side of Theon that would need him and want him just as he needed him.

And he doubted he could in one night, especially given Theon's pride, he would have probably never agreed in going beyond some drawings and exchanging a couple of hand favours.

… and yet.

Yet, when Theon knocked at his door that night, and the flames painted orange caresses on his skin, Robb felt his stomach drop and his heart fill.

Theon was wearing a long black velvet tunic and black breeches, but Robb didn't fail to notice there was no golden emblazed kraken on neither.

“So. - there was a slurred warmth in his voice, but Theon was smirking as usual, he had drank but not enough to get wasted, and Robb felt angry he didn’t even deserve his sobriety – Can I come in?”

Robb nodded and moved, almost nervously.

Theon had been in his chambers often, they had slept together at times, but right then, in that moment, it seemed like it was the first time they were alone.

The silence and the space between them felt immense.

Theon dickered away his boots by the heels and sat on the bed.

His eyes shone, splendid blue in the darkness, and he laughed.

And when Theon laughed, he made everything seem so simple.

Robb had loved that mouth for years: the mocking smug smirks, the cocky grins, the terrible jokes, the snapping bickering, the frustrated groans, the way he licked and bit his lips.

He had loved that mouth before he knew what loving was. And before he realized a man could love another.

“Come. - Theon patted next to him on the bed – I'll show you.”

Robb wondered for a moment if he should have asked him to bring a girl, so he could have pretended, so he could have had hidden behind it.

Salt in the wounds, sugar in the blood – love felt like a migraine.

Robb moved to the bed almost automatically, sitting on the soft furs, his hands searching, tasting the softness of them, almost to calm himself down.

He smelled his own come from the night before.

He wondered if Theon could smell it too, the stench of sex, the stench of crave buried under his skin. Theon's eyes looked like he was the wolf out of the two of them, and Robb found himself petrified and crucified by his own desire.

Theon lowered his head, bent it, so he could look at Robb's eyes, stubbornly hidden behind curls, and asked, his cockiness working like a charm, “Have you ever kissed someone?”

Robb felt his throat clench and hurt.

He hated Theon as much as he loved him.

How could he have forgotten that _they_ did kiss already? Sure, he was twelve, sure, Theon laughed it off, sure, it was a joke, sure, it was because Jon had mocked Robb for always running after Theon, sure... sure, but …

“Once.”

Theon sucked his lips, but placed his fingers under Robb's chin and lifted it gently.

His eyes were a greedier shade of blue, then.

“Unclench your jaw. - he whispered, warmly, and Robb could just stare at his lips, mesmerized – Breathe with your nose.”

Robb closed his eyes, tentatively, and Theon about scoffed at that, before coming close to him, and brushing their lips together.

Robb almost gasped, his hands trembled, shivered.

He wanted to pull Theon close. He was not sure if he could.

Theon started sucking Robb's bottom lip, slowly, biting it gentler, then licked it, as to unlock it. Robb opened his lips and felt Theon smile against them, before sinking in.

And he was tortuous fire.

And he felt like a venomous whirlpool of heaven twisting around itself.

The sky crashed on the earth inside his mind.

And his hands grabbed the side of Theon's face and he forgot everything he was supposed to know; Theon went deeper, his tongue big and long and experienced, and it filled his mouth, and teased his own, and Robb moaned and frowned, feeling Theon's taste.

His own. Beyond the wine.

For a moment, he gasped for air, but pulled right back in, this time bobbing his head slightly, instinctively, until his tongue was in Theon and Theon was the one moaning against him, weakly, almost high-pitched.

The sound twisted inside Robb's mouth and he drank it, inebriated.

He pushed forward, his weight pressing on Theon, his hands keeping him.

And Theon didn't move away, in fact, he almost started to move his hips against him, rolling them, and his hands ran through Robb's curls.

Robb pushed him down on the bed, squeezing, pinning him down, catching his mouth again. Theon squirmed under him, his hands rushing to Robb's white tunic and untying its ropes, his fingers then sliding under the linen, caressing the auburn hairs, the soft skin.

And then Robb felt them, their cocks, hard, rubbing through the breeches.

Theon gasped, popping his eyes open and glancing at his own crotch.

He was hard, and so was Robb, their breeches protruding in an unmistakeable peaking angle.

He shivered, he had not planned that. He had not calculated that, at all.

His hands were on Robb's chest – when had he caressed it? When had he ended up under him on his bed? – And it felt unbelievably soft, unbelievably sweet. His hands wandered, slowly, but unable of stopping themselves, brushing their fingertips over Robb’s pecks.

Touches calling for more, the idea of stopping felt absurd.

He squeezed a peck, slightly, Robb let out a small shy smile, then Theon moved upwards and kissed Robb's neck, so sweetly, getting lost in how honeyed Robb's skin tasted – and the salty, musky scent made his mind spin.

He felt on the verge of the abyss, on the cliff.

And the sea under was stormy and furious.

Robb's lips brushed against his earlobe, “Can I touch you?”

Theon nodded, weakly, while he remembered he was supposed to teach Robb how to behave with his future wife that night. It suddenly felt so much more wrong.

He wanted to ask Robb to catch him before he'd fall into the storm, but he wouldn't have understood.

He was an earth boy, made of snow and woods.

He knew nothing of the salty, brackish, black mouth and how the rocks above it are not mountains to climb, but diving planks into ruin.

Theon opened his shirt, untied the stripes and let it slide down his arms.

His almost fully glabrous chest that had been so loved by Winterfell women, too used to the bearish coat of northerners, made him feel naked then. They curled, almost twisted, coating sparingly, while Robb's looked already so manly… 

He had almost even felt the rough scratch of his beard during the kiss.

He was a man. His Robb was a man.

And Theon felt himself trying to swallow that he did want him, more than he had ever wanted any pillow-breasted, buxom woman in that northern centenary latrine.

It made no sense at all.

“Place kisses on the skin as if to form a trail downwards. - he murmured – You don't want to get to her cunt before it's completely wet and waiting for you.”

It struck Theon like a fever: if desire was a prison, the prisoner would have been Wynafryd. Her. Not him. Someone else.

Someone else would have craved and begged and melted.

Robb obliged to the instructions and started kissing Theon's ear, dragging his sloppy tongue around the shell, playing with the inside – Theon laughed a “tickles!”, warning, but then started breathing heavily, as Robb sucked the lobe, slowly, his hands finding Theon's neck and caressing it and the skinny collarbones and the strong shoulders.

Theon bit his lips when he was about to moan.

He turned his head, exposing the neck more, like a damn deer, offering himself to the predator.

Violets bloomed on his flesh, bruises red and purple and plum-ish like a garden of every colour of bliss. He choked a pleasured sob, closing his eyes, finding himself moving his hips like waves.

Sickness ran through his body, it was just the spark of perfection.

Robb's lips felt outrageously soft, strong beyond comparison, and his teeth sank into Theon's shoulder and cut it open and Theon smiled wide, eyes closed, intoxicated.

He caressed Robb's head of hair, ran his fingers through the locks and then, descended, scratching his back like the miller's wife did to him every time he came inside her.

Robb kissed Theon's chest, licked the lines of the muscles, sucked the soft skin, just to stop as his lips met the nipple.

Theon let out a small, smug chuckle.

“You should suck her jugs, kiss them, nibble them, but always be gentle with your teeth. - he explained, holding Robb close – They're sensitive, women feed children from there, you need to be a baby more than a wolf.”

Robb's throat jumped and clenched.

He glanced up to Theon and the cyan of his eyes burnt impossibly hot.

“Can I?”

Theon tried to scoff, but it came out sounding almost shy, “It won't feel good.”

“How do you know?”

“It's not a woman's breast.”

Theon's voice faltered enough for Robb to catch him, then.

“Better so. If I’m rougher, it won't hurt, no?”

“Robb-”

“I have to learn, no?”, Robb asked then.

He was stubbornly looking away, avoiding Theon’s eyes now, staring at his chest.

Theon shivered to the marrow; Robb was a green boy, but there was no way he could be thinking about a woman while being so intensely focused on him.

And Theon felt his heart tremble with the blue of a foolish night.

“For her, right?”

Robb nodded, without any conviction.

“For her.”

His mouth went on Theon's dark, hard nipple, and his lips circled it – he let his tongue tease the tip, before sucking it directly.

Theon slammed his hand on his own mouth, muffling the lewdest, wettest sound.

With terror in his eyes, he crossed Robb's aroused glance, they both knew: he had just moaned like a whore.

Robb smirked against Theon's chest, and sucked more.

Robb lapped and tormented it, eager with a hasty, gut-rooted thirst for Theon's flesh.

Theon was shaking under him, shuddering, eyes wide open, pupils too, and his hips were bucking. 

He was totally enraptured.

And to Robb that was the most powerful wine: the idea of having Theon want him and lose any control under him.

He passed his teeth over the tender border of the nipple, and Theon's hips jolted up, desperate.

And Theon screamed, arching his back, humping the void between them. Robb moved a leg between Theon's, pressing his knee against Theon's cock, making him whine and sob, and rub himself, like a desperate animal.

Robb sucked, intensely, hard, until he let that nipple go with a sloppy, wet  _blop_ from his mouth.

Theon panted, his lips quivering in relief, but it was just for a moment, then Robb's mouth was tormenting the other nipple and the one of before was getting twisted between Robb's fingers.

Pleasure rode inside him, set him alight.

Robb bit his nipple, twisting the other and he felt Theon's cock jump against his leg, his balls tight and swollen.

Theon moaned, hated himself and moaned harder with every turn.

His lips were wet from sucking, his dick leaking, his head spinning too quickly, galloping through truths he couldn’t face.

And then, he heard Robb's voice, lower than it had ever been.

“Seems like they are like a woman's. - his amused pitch slapped Theon like a whip across the ego – You seem to be enjoying this.”

Robb twisted both the nipples with his fingers, quickly, and Theon threw his head back, with an obscene sob.

Another twist. A squeeze. A pull.

“A. Whole. Lot.”

As Robb left his nipples, Theon panted out, tried to look at him again, but teardrops made his eyes hazy.

Robb flicked the oversensitive nipples with his fingers. 

And Theon let out a wrecked, drenched moan, while a gallop of precome wetted his breeches and his hips thrust in the empty air.

Robb raised an eyebrow.

“Cute.”

Theon glanced at him, feeling his heart pound hysterically in his chest. The drums of a whole war were squeezing his lungs.

Robb's hand brushed Theon's stomach, his abdomen, lean and strong, the oval hole of the navel – Robb caressed its hem, dragged a finger into it, and Theon arched.

He bowed over it and licked around it, while his hands worked to taunt Theon's soft hips and his tender pelvis. Theon looked so ashamed by his reaction when he was touched like that, he bit down into his hand to muffle his own voice, but the sight set Robb harder on his quest for a breaking point.

Robb's hand untied Theon's breeches, exposing Theon's dick to the light.

Their throats hurt.

From there on there was very little they could deny.

Theon's eyelids fluttered and he felt his face burn, scalding, and he breathed in the itching light of the fireplace reflecting on Robb's skin. It hurt to speak.

“You don't have to... it's different.”

Robb raised an eyebrow, between surprised and disappointed by Theon's insistence.

“It's practice, isn't it?”

He bowed between Theon's leg and starting caressing the big, needy balls, “These, of course, won't be there. – then his finger ran to the base of the shaft – This I would know how to please, but... - there was a wicked shade to his voice – Since we're here for Wynafryd, tell me how you eat women out.”

Theon closed his eyes, swallowing. He abandoned himself on the bed.

“You need to - he licked his lips, ashamed – They have a little pearl, you need to find it, sometimes it's less visible, that's their head.”

“So you focus on the head.”

Theon gulped, “I mean, some like also if yo-”

“Then I shouldn't pump you. - Robb said, nuzzling his head against the cock, breathing on the throbbing shaft, but not even brushing his lips over it, while moving towards the head – And do you suck or lick it?”

Theon gulped down, his hips crying with tension, his cock begging for touch.

Robb raised an eyebrow, “I take it's just licking.”

Theon tried to object, but there was something too arousing in being treated like a woman, like Robb's wife, maybe it was the humiliation, the degradation, maybe the fact... a woman shouldn't have felt ashamed by wanting those things? Liberation. That was it, wasn't it?

Robb's tongue ran over Theon's head, teasing it. Theon shivered, his hips bucked and he whined loud and wanton.

Robb smiled, evil damn beautiful thing he was, and kissed and licked the reddened, needy tip. 

He was so eager to taste it, he couldn't stop. It felt unreal.

Theon was a withering, squirming mess under him, clutching the sheets, moaning, biting his lips, suffocating sounds, rolled over and overwhelmed by the pleasure.

Robb's tongue lapped and licked the head, slipping at times on the soft skin of the crown, licking the precome dripping down, sucking ever so gently the tip and then passing over the hole insistently, teasing it. 

He had no idea if women liked it that way, but Theon surely did and that was all that mattered.

The soft, raw skin trembled and pulsed under him as he toyed with it, the pressure of his tongue sending sparks through the whole throbbing shaft, intensely, yet not painfully. And he enjoyed the sight of Theon melting under him slowly.

He breathed in and savoured Theon's most intimate taste, and Theon rolled his eyes back and bit his hand.

“You cream yourself from your bosom being touched, you tremble from your tip caressed. - Robb twisted his tongue over the cockhead, dragging over the slit, tormenting it – Are you sure you don't have a cunt down there?”

His finger ran to Theon's entrance, caressing it just slightly, teasing the borders that burned with pleasure.

Theon flinched, his mouth agape.

His cock was pulsing and jolting on his stomach, leaking, dripping, precome all over, begging for release.

“Tell me how you finger women.”

Theon trembled and raised his right hand to demonstrate, “When you enter with more than one, three is best, curl your fingers... - he mimicked the motion and shame slapped his face but made his cock harder – Women have a coarse part inside, it will turn Wynaf...”

“Don't name her. - Robb warned, more pained than angry – Tonight, there is only us.”

Theon blinked, “It won't work on me.”

Robb raised an eyebrow, unconvinced, then grabbed Theon's cock and sucked the tip; it was too much, too hot, too good, making him come and splurt in seconds with a deep, high moan that echoed through every nerve and muscle of his body, turning him into a shuddering mess.

“You thought the same of everything tonight... - Robb whispered, took Theon's come and covered three of his fingers and the twitching hole he was exposing – Didn't you?”

Theon's eyes shone low.

“Do you want me to stop?”

His voice was hoarse, made of mist and need, “No...”

Robb smiled, then his lips trembled, “Will you let me take your maidenhood, then?”

Theon tried to laugh, but his voice fell in a dark, dense pit.

“Yes.”

They exchanged a look that said “for Wynafryd” and meant “absolutely not for Wynafryd”, and Theon closed his eyes and, widening his legs, he murmured, “My lord.”

Robb moved to him and kissed Theon's tender thighs, the soft, inner skin, so delicate, he breathed in Theon's scent and let his tongue envelope the heavy balls and the dark entrance.

Theon flinched, skipped a heartbeat, when he felt Robb's tongue entering into him, on the edge of darkness, on the brink of pleasure. 

He felt his own cock hardening again without even being touched, just by having Robb's tongue torment him inside.

He shuddered, shivered. His groin was pulsing, his ass was craving.

Robb moved, making Theon sob, distressed, and took a little bottle of ointment or oil.

“You keep that under the bed?”, Theon chuckled, between nervousness and frustratedly arousal.

Robb sank his fingers into the bottle, wetting them.

He blushed up to the tip of his ears, and returned to Theon's ass before replying, with a voice that tried hard to sound deeper and firmer than it was, “I jerk off so much to this that my cock gets raw. - he slid one finger inside Theon, easily, incredibly easily, and Theon gasped and threw his head back – I’ve dreamed of fucking you so many times.”

Theon blinked then, his eyes widening in surprise.

Robb raised his eyes and looked at Theon too, their glances locking, like shadows matching in the dark.

Theon's lips quivered, trembled, as he tried to reply.

But all that came out was a gasp and a moan, as Robb pushed a second finger in, and then a third. He screamed in pleasure against his own hand and his eyes rolled to the roof of his skull.

His heart beat with the thick, dense sensation of being invaded – pleasure sinking through him, wetting his lungs, corrupting every part of him with bliss.

Robb was in awe.

He started moving, first slow, then faster, widening Theon, twisting and pumping inside; Theon threw his arms around Robb's neck and kept him close. He was breathing heavily and his dick was dripping and jolting, his hips trembling.

Robb's throat clenched.

It was what he wanted so much, for so long, for a moment, he was too afraid of destroying it, then the awareness it would have been that night, that night alone, sank into him, sedimenting like dust.

And he knew he couldn't afford not to give all of himself.

He curled his fingers inside Theon, sliding deeper, trying to feel his walls.

Theon panted, tried to protest weakly. A “It's not a-” escaped his lips, but then he found himself muted.

And he arched his back, threw his head backwards, his hips shivering, his ass clenching desperately around Robb.

Pleasure. Pure and raw and messy.

And Robb's look was stained in wonder, in awe, in desire and then elation: he was pleasing Theon, his Theon, the Theon who always had many women, the Theon who was more experienced than him, his Theon was squirming under him, riding his fingers and twisting his back in bliss.

“It seems to me you quite enjoy it. - Robb pushed a fourth finger inside and Theon's jaw dropped, pleasure painted on his face with furrowed eyebrows and wet lips spilling moans, and Robb moved faster, pressed harder on that point that was destroying all of Theon's defences and turning his pride into a puddle of bliss – You have a cunt too, apparently.”

Theon tried to deny but it got choked in his mouth, as, with a rougher, thunderous pace, Robb tormented his depths. And Theon came again, spilling on his stomach, a wet, abundant load, the colour of moonlight. 

He screamed, squirmed, clenched onto Robb's fingers, as if he couldn’t ever let him go.

And Robb never felt as close to him.

How was he supposed to turn back from that moment? To call him a brother, a friend, someone else's lover?

Had life been fair, he would have wed Theon.

Robb untied his breeches and poured the oil on his cock then, much to Theon's staring, startled, yet magnetized, scared and all over absolutely thrilled.

Robb gulped down dry, trying again to sound as mature as he could.

“This is what we're here for, no? - he raised his eyebrows, but his mouth twitched – Teach me how to fuck.”

Theon's hand ran on Robb's chest, at first seemingly to stop him, then, slowly, it moved to Robb's hip, and pushed him closer.

Robb's glance shone smouldering.

And he pushed in, slowly, inch by inch. Theon bit his lips, cursed, teardrops pooled in his eyes, the girth pulling and tearing him apart.

But the sheer heat he felt where Robb was filling … that was inebriating.

And when Robb pushed all of his length in, Theon arched his back, bellowing, screaming, his voice mixing high and low, the depth of pleasure and the shallowness of air.

He trembled, bliss filling him to the brink.

Something so wrong and humiliating was not supposed to feel good, but, drowned fucker, it did. It was pure fire burning inside his veins and turning every part of his naked raw flesh into an overstimulated delight.

Robb, though, was not moving. He was just staring at his cock disappearing into Theon's hole.

He was staring at Theon swallowing him, accepting him, feeling adrift in bliss for him.

And the heat, the heat was absurd and good – and how soft Theon was inside.

He dithered and shuddered, before thrusting deeper, with a dark, low grunt.

Theon moaned, arched, drove his hips against Robb's cock, unable to resist, despite how tore he still felt. His nerves were a knot of thorns, but it felt like pure euphoria. Rapture took over him, as he moved down, as Robb moved up.

And when Robb was all in, and he felt his balls slapping against him, Theon screamed in pleasure, twitching around, withering on the huge … 

He frowned.

And looked up to Robb, who was staring there with a blissful and mortified expression.

“Did you just...come?”

Robb nodded, weakly, “It. You, you feel too good.”

Theon stared then at his crotch, seeing his own half-hard cock, but more than anything, seeing what he couldn't actually: Robb had come inside him.

What did that make of him?

For a moment, for a night, it didn't matter.

He chuckled, relief rushing through him, as he shook his head, “Well, that was a whole what... two minutes?”  
“I... - Robb blushed hard – Cut me some slack!”

“How adorable are you?”

“It's not my fault if your cunt feels so good.”, Robb blurted out.

Theon swallowed down that word with unwilling arousal and a trembling smile on his lips.

Robb bit his lip, rubbing his softening shaft against Theon's entrance, on his legs – Theon let out a breathless gasp, before moving his own hips, rubbing them invitingly against Robb's cock.

Theon scoffed, “Hard again already, what a green thing you are.”

Robb sank in, this time all at once, shutting Theon up for once, and pushed his hips in and out, pounding fast.

Theon writhed, jerked, thrashed.

Robb thrust and slammed into him rough and hungry and possessive, grabbing his hips and forcing them to lift and wedge in better.

Theon could barely feel anything anymore except his oversensitive, raw flesh being widened and slammed through, his nerves were shining white from pain and bliss.

He was thunderstruck.

Robb rutted into him, jamming, he bowed and caught Theon's mouth in his own, while still pounding, drinking up Theon's moans and his desperation.

“So needy, so hot. - Robb whispered, his thrusts getting slightly erratic again – Gods, I'm going to fill you up.”

Theon couldn't even smirk anymore, his plump lips wet from sucking and chapped by panting altogether, the corners of his mouth were just faltering, shivering, weak.

He could just throw himself back, arch, move his hips.

Something, the spot of Robb had touched before, was claiming attention, begging for it, swollen, frying his brain with the absence of being touched properly.

And when Robb angled himself to slam into it, Theon lost any demeanour.

His composure was shattered by sparks of need twirling in his spine and pulsing through his cock.

“Please. - Theon almost sobbed, while his mouth still turned at times into a blissful smile – Please, there, there.”

Robb obliged, satisfied, he grabbed Theon's legs and bent them over Theon’s head and drove deeper, harder, hitting that spot as if he needed to break him.

Crave echoed through Theon and caught him over and over in the underthrow of desire.

Robb's brutal thrusts through him were new, incredible and overwhelming.

Every part of him seemed to disappear, except the hole Robb fucked, hard and relentless, and his cock, desperately needing relief.

Theon felt himself drip, but it was his hole that cried in rapture.

White-hot bliss rushed all over his spine and from his cock.

And he would have loved to protest, that it was too much, but as pleasure and pain verged, the ecstasy tasted so thick and honeyed, he couldn't stop coming, screaming loudly and spraying, until it was almost dry, his cock twitching still after the release and his hips crying in the need of the afterglow.

Robb locked their lips, biting Theon's bottom lip while coming into him again, his cock twitching and throbbing inside him.

Robb almost trembled, then fell over Theon, his chest shaking.

Theon held him around the neck and kissed his freckled ears and his red curls, humming softly.

“That was so good, my lord.”

“Robb.”

Theon smiled at the correction, “Robb. - he sucked his lips – You're still inside.”

“Do you want me to slip out?”, Robb asked, fumbling a bit, while his hand was already going to caress Theon's nipples again.

“No. - Theon admitted in a small voice – I think the longer you stay in, the more...”

Robb groaned, “I'm with Theon now. Not Wynafryd.”

Theon blinked, looking down at him.

Robb hid his face in Theon’s chest, but Theon could see his ears stained with the colour of wine again. His voice sounded so small and low and blue, “I meant it... when I said I dreamed of fucking _you_ .”

And Theon's lips parted.

He knew he needed to say something, something that had burned through him, cooking his heart and souring his mind.

“It... may... have not been about teaching you, either.”

And, in the darkness, as the fireflies of orange light coming from the hearth faded, with only touch allowing him to see, Theon felt Robb's smile against his chest.

 

*

 

In the end, that was not their only night, despite Robb's fears.

As it turned out that Wynafryd was much more interested in the politics of the north than in marital affairs and, cunning as she was, she accepted to keep silent about her husband's affair as long as she could exercise more autonomy in Winterfell than preceding ladies did.

And, she was sly and sweet altogether, and able to pretend so well, Theon couldn't not appreciate that.

In another life, he would have probably suggested Robb to let her join.

In this one, he knew not to feed Robb's possessiveness, if not while being ready to not walk nor sit well the day after.

 


End file.
